The Rebel, the Merchant, and the Soldier
by k13aquamarine
Summary: It began as crack and evolved into so much more. An epic journey involving cereal characters.
1. Dangerous to be in the forest this late

**Had to move these because of frustrated readers, so they're on their own now. Don't really have much else to say other than I don't own them.**

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><p>His panting breath came out in mist that manifested before him. He was stumbling over roots and shrubs, eyes straining against the darkness that stretched on around him. His breathing became more panicked and his running more frantic with each loud rumble that rang through the trees. Hot, putrid breath encroached on the back of his neck. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated in fear. He willed his legs to move faster, take longer strides, leaning forward for momentum until the toe of his pointed boot caught on a root and his body slammed into the ground. Quivering, he rolled over and looked up into the face of—well, he didn't have time to see it, because it was very dark…and also somebody grabbed his collar and dragged him into the ground, which was really a trap door into a secret bunker that he had no previous conception of until right then.<p>

After regaining his composure, he looked around and saw metal wires running through the ceiling and strange unintelligible sketches on the walls.

"Shouldn't be out in the forest this late. It's dangerous to be out in the forest this late."

"Thanks for saving me."

"You were being chased out there."

"Yes, I thought I was a goner." He noticed how war, when being fought, was very violent. That he noticed at that moment. He was thinking of his brother… He also noticed how warm it was in the bunker, and also how typos make things more detached from the story at hand. He looked around to find the source of the warmth, and saw a fire, which was also the primary source of light.

"You should probably put that fire out. Your furniture is almost charcoal."

"It's okay, we're in a metal bunker."

"Doesn't that make it more like an oven?"

"It's dangerous to be out in the forest this late."

He took that as a reasonable answer, and dropped the subject completely.

"Hungry?"

"Inconceivably."

"Have some soup. It's bear soup."

He took the soup ravenously, yet graciously at the same time. The scarred and bearded man marveled at his guest's paradoxical behavior. And then the latter fell into a deep and restful sleep. He had been running a long time.


	2. Oh you speak French

**Pretty much alternating points of view for each chapter. **

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><p>He awoke to the inhalation and exhalation of the tides. His clothes were soaked through, and the air was permeated by the salty taste of salt. He lifted his head and curled his fist around a fistful of sand. His fist curled around something in the sand that was not sand. Upon further examination, he realized that it was a stapler that was beneath the sand. Upon further examination he found staples in the stapler. Suddenly, this inexplicable urge overtook him, and he wanted to put a staple in his head. And so he did.<p>

Or at least he would have, if somebody hadn't grabbed his wrist at the last statement. Also the last second.

"What are you doing?" gasped a gentle voice.

"I…" He looked back at his hand, and realized it was simply a rock. He didn't even know what a stapler was, really.

"You must be hallucinating from dehydration. Did you drink sea water?"

"I… 'm not sure… uh… Where am I?"

"Who are you?"

"Um…" He tried to remember who he was, tried to search for a name. But none came to him. He cinched his eyebrows together in a look that was filled with both concentration and confusion.

"You're soaking wet. Come inside, please. I'm sure you need to rest." She helped him up, and they began trudging through the sand toward a small hut with a roof of palm leaves. "My name is June."

She led him through the beaded doorway of the hut and onto a woven mat of palms. "Where did these hands come from? There awfully soft."

"I think you're still hallucinating," she replied through her tentacles.

"Oh, you speak French."

"You should get some rest." She gave him a tonic and he went to sleep. He had been swimming a long time.


	3. TERRIFYING FIRE BREATHING DRAGON

**First chapter where you get the character's name!**

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><p>He braced himself against the bracing winds. Holding his General's jacket tight around him, he squinted through the snow at the towering peak. The sage said it was around here… He trudged up the slope, the previous battle flashing vividly in his memory.<p>

_It was cold and harsh weather. The sky was raining snow and projectiles. Blood streaked the snow with red. Those that weren't lying dead or dying on the ground, hidden under snow-blankets, were screaming and running for cover from the loud BOOMS of cannon fire._

_The General was down, so he ran toward him, diving to the hard and merciless ground as a cannon ball flew over his head. As he approached, he saw the snow turn red around his General, so much so that it nearly turned black. He had been hit, and his leg was missing. The General would no doubt bleed to death right there._

_When he finally reached him, the General slapped a strong hand on his shoulder. He felt like jelly beneath it. Even this close to death, the man was as strong as an ox. He gave a weak wheeze of a laugh that dissipated in the air in front of his face. "Finally did me in," he said. "Finally happened."_

_"Sir," he said, but had nothing to follow. He just kneeled there beside his leader, mouth agape like a fish._

_"No worries," the General said. "They still don't have it. It's in you," he said, jabbing his finger into the younger man's chest. "They can't get it as long as you still have it."_

_He closed his mouth and shivered. The General, perceptive as ever, shrugged off his thick, heavy, decorated wool jacket and slung it about his soldier's shoulders. The latter's eyes widened in humble surprise, and he tried to give it back, but the General held up his hand to stop him. "Take it," he insisted. "I won't be needing it anymore. Here," he added, taking out the folded map from his pocket and handing it to the stunned soldier. "Leave this battle. You must get to the place the sage specified before they can catch up to you."_

_"But sir, I—"_

_"No buts, just go! That's an order!"_

_He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, then gritted his teeth, stood, and turned away to begin his journey up the mountain._

_"And Pop!"_

_He turned back to the General, who was grinning. "Give 'em hell from me, Colonel!" The old General saluted his newly-appointed Colonel. The gesture was returned with a grim smile, before Colonel Pop turned his back on the scene and strode away without looking back._

He shivered and pulled the coat even tighter. The world lost a great man that day.

He didn't realize how long he had been hiking until he came out of the shadow of a great wall of rock into the shadow of a TERRIFYING FIRE-BREATHING DRAGON! Pop released his sword from its hilt and poised himself for the most epic fire-and-ice battle of his life.

The dragon was cold black, and it was about ten times the size of the soldier. The dragon was cold black, but its fire was white hot. The dragon lunged toward Pop with its sharp teeth and white-hot fire breathing power! Pop ducked and rolled away, simultaneously slipping out of the heavy jacket his General gave him; he no longer needed its warmth. He was still shivering, but now from adrenaline and excitement instead of the freezing air on the summit. The dragon's head followed his rolling-movement and snapped at him again. Pop caught its teeth with his gigantic manly sword (which was very tough and shiny—it was a gift from his merchant brother). The dragon's eyes narrowed vehemently and it withdrew, only to lunge forward again with another snap of its monstrous teeth. Pop dodged the teeth again and, realizing his weariness from the long trek up the mountain and the battle before that, decided that an altercation with this creature would be very dangerous and inconvenient and proceeded to dive into a small cave that he noticed off to the side. It was much more safe and convenient than fighting a dragon.

As it turned out, the cave was much more safe and convenient than he could ever have imagined. It was the very place he had been searching for, the temple of sages which would aid him in his quest. They were just inside, awaiting his arrival. As he stood up and gazed at all of the bearded, cloaked men who all gazed back at him, he heard the dragon roar with fury. One sage stepped outside and pulled a large stuffed animal from his cloak and threw it into the air. The dragon caught it and lay down, nuzzling the toy.

Pop had no time to be bewildered; the sages were already filing down the long hallway that led deeper into the mountain. He rushed to catch up.


	4. The scarred and bearded man

He awoke to humming. The humming of the wires that covered the ceiling. The humming of the fluorescent lights that lined the walls like watchful guards. The humming of the scarred and bearded man as he bustled about in his lacy apron. He sat up and groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead. He was damp with sweat and he felt feverish, but he couldn't tell because it was sweltering hot in the bunker. He glanced at his rescuer from beneath his light brown bangs. The man, with all his hair and layers, just went on with his menial tasks as if it were a pleasant spring day, not a drop of sweat staining that frilly pink apron of his.

Just then, he turned around and noticed that his guest was, in fact, awake. "Oh, you're awake!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, I am."

"That's good." The scarred and bearded man went back to his humming and cleaning.

"What's your name?" Anything to stop that incessant humming.

"Name's Bethorn," answered his jovial rescuer. "And who do you be?"

The young man furrowed his brow, wearing a look of anger, despair and deep concentration.

"Snap. My name's Snap."

"That's nice." The humming began again.

"So you live here alone?" Snap asked loudly, trying to get the sound of that abominable noise out of his head.

"Aye, but I'm not alone."

"How so?"

"Well..." Bethorn glanced at his guest uncertainly. "I s'pose should be tellin' y'now. This here bunker's a part of an underground resistance. Now that ye know 'bout it, y'have no choice but to work wit' us."

"What? B-but-You kidnapped me!"

"Now lad, calm down."

"No, I shall not!" Snap felt even more feverish than before. He hardly noticed Bethorn standing. "I have to find my brothers! They're expecting me and-"

SPLASH! Cold water splashed over him. He spluttered as more water hit the floor. He glowered at Bethorn and saw him holding a hose attached inside the wall under a particularly incomprehensible doodle.

"Better?" Bethorn asked.

"I suppose," Snap answered grudgingly. Cold water dripped down his spine, soothing his anger.

"So, yer lookin' fer yer brothers?"

"Yeah."

"Well the only way to find 'em is with the resistance."

"Can't I just leave?"

"Lad, it's dangerous in the woods at night."

"Of course," Snap grumbled.

The old man thrust a bowl of stew in front of him. "Eat yerself some breakfast, and we'll be on our way."

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><p><strong>Ugh...Bethorn...<em>I<em> didn't name him...heh (love you, Jess!)**


	5. She called him Caterpillar

**So we're actually starting to take this story seriously (which was inevitable, by the way) and so there will be a thing called Character Development beginning to take place here and you will get some inklings of something called Plot (which right now is at a very basic stage of planning, we have a general map of it but no concrete details) and no, you don't have to read it, this is more for our own satisfaction than anyone who feels the need to flame us about this.**

**Anyway, here's some cereal characters. **

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><p>He was hacking away, and sparks were flying, but the brittle twigs just would not hold the flame. The flint in his hand was wearing down, being torn apart by the machete in his other hand, which was flailing up and down, trying to build enough momentum to strike the flint hard and quick enough to generate enough sparks to <em>bathe the stupid twigs in sparks<em> and then maybe they would _finally catch on fire._

June had wasted no time in putting him to work the moment he was strong enough to stand up and feed himself. She had dubbed him "Caterpillar" and decided he should learn his way around surviving under primitive conditions, teaching him how to do basic tasks and become self-sufficient. Lesson Number One: Build a fire. It sounded easy, but he was having a hard time with it.

"How's it coming, Caterpillar?"

He jumped at the voice right by his ear. He threw the machete on the ground and the flint into the pile with frustration. "Not well," he answered, assuming a position of defeat.

"Well, you're not going to get a fire going by pouting."

He huffed in annoyance. "Yes. I know." He continued to stare dejectedly down at the pile of sticks and flint.

"Well, I suppose I could teach you how to catch fish or what fruit are safe to pick. Then we can try again with the fire." The young man leaped to his feet. "Let's go, Caterpillar."

June led him to the beach past the hut. She grabbed a makeshift spear leaning up against the side of the small building. June slowly waded in, disturbing the now calm water as little as possible.

"You have to remember, Caterpillar, when you are fishing with a spear: The fish won't be in your direct line of sight. The water bends the eyes. You'll just have to get used to it, and that takes practice."

"Nothing is as easy as it looks, is it?" June smiled at his resignation.

"It shouldn't take too long if you have good aim. Now let's be quiet and I'll show you what I mean." The two of them stood quietly, and the young man watched as fish approached them. Their approach was darting and swift. None of them looked very large, and June waited. A larger fish than the others approached the two in the water. June indicated that he should watch and slowly brought her arm back. Quick as a lightning bug, the girl whipped her arm down and sent the spear towards the fish, or, rather, just above the fish. He watched, certain the spear was going to miss. The spear pierced the water and speared the fish, seeming to bend as soon as it entered the water.

"Amazing, how did you do that?"

"It was nothing, really. It just takes practice, that's all. Here, you try now Caterpillar." He took the spear in his hand and looked at it, feeling the weight of it in his fingers. "We just need another fish to go with this one, and we'll be able to eat dinner. I'll take this to shore." June left him to practice. Turning his attention back to the water, Caterpillar watched the fish swim by. A large fish that could have been the twin of June's fish swam within reach. He raised the spear slowly like June had and took aim. Whipping the spear towards the water he watched as the spear went straight towards the fish and…missed. As soon as it pierced the water the spear bent away from the fish. The large fish fled from its attacker.

"_You always think you can do something on the first try, but some things take practice,"_ echoed a male voice from within his head. Looking around, the man saw no one else around him. Frowning he picked up the spear and waited patiently for another fish to approach.

An hour later June came back out to see how he was doing. He told her he had come close to catching three fish (which was very true), but each time the spear had bent away from where he had aimed, scaring his target away.

"Well, you can't expect to get it on the first try." June smiled up at him, but her smile faltered as he frowned down at her. "What?"

"I just—while I was practicing I remembered someone telling me basically the same thing."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, whoever they were, they were wise. Do you want to continue practicing this or go back to the fire making?"

"No, this is fine."

"All right, I'll make the fire for dinner. I'll check on you later, Caterpillar." He turned back to the fish as June sloshed back to the beach.

"I caught one!"

"Oh?" June looked at his quarry. "Oh, Caterpillar." She laughed at the tiny fish in his hand. The spear had all but cut it in half. He looked at it, really looked at it for the first time.

"Well, I still caught it, and it was a small target! I'll go back and try and catch a bigger one."

"Good idea Caterpillar, and when you do, I'll show you how to gut it."

The young man's luck ran out after that and all he managed to bring in was some seaweed and a little creature that clung to the spear rather than was pierced by it.

"June! What is this thing?" He held up the spear in the failing light. June squinted and beamed at this catch.

"That's so cute! Is it hugging the spear?"

"I guess so." He looked at the creature and it looked straight back at him. As they shared a look June joined them.

"I wish we could keep it as a pet." She reached out and stroked the slimy back. "Go ahead and let it go, Caterpillar. It's about time to eat, we'll be fine with just the one fish for today."

The two young people sat across from one another with the fire between them. The young man suddenly wished he had started the fire instead of letting himself be bested by it. The fish June had caught was roasting on a stick and June had a bowl made of palm leaves (not to be confused with fleshy palms found on people's hands) and held brightly colored fruit.

"You said you remembered something?" June mentioned casually while Caterpillar was staring up at the stars.

"Yeah, I don't know where it came from."  
>"Can you tell me about it, Caterpillar?"<p>

"It wasn't much, it was just a guy telling me I can't expect things to work perfectly the first time around, that some things require practice."

"Do you know who might have said it?"

"Naw."

"Hmm, well. You can always tell me whatever you remember. We'll see you regain your memories!" June's face was determined and Caterpillar already recognized it as an immovable force. After that, June served the fish by cutting it in half down the spine and the two ate in amiable silence.

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><p><strong>It was an octopus.<strong>


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